Page 37 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
“Which is exactly why we should do it…”
“If I bring you more wine in your room, will you sleep there?”
I shake my head. “No. But you know a nice place to sleep?”
He raises his brows in a question.
“The barn.”
“With the horses?” His tone is dubious.
“Yes, horses make the cutest sounds…”
“Naturally…”
“I feel like you don’t believe me. Come on, I’m going to show you.” I take Daemon’s hand in mine, and I tug him toward the castle.
We come out of the gardens on the side of the river far north of the sparring fields where the ball is being held, and then circle around on a path that leads behind all the buildings near the castle. Eventually, when the moon is directly overhead, we reach the barn. When we walk inside, we’re instantly greeted by soft snorts, the stomping of hooves, and the chewing of hay.
“Shhh…listen. Do you hear it?”
After several long moments, Daemon looks down at me with a small smile. “I do.”
I tug him further down the aisle of the barn. Moonlight comes in stripes from the cupola and skylights above. Toward the end of the barn, there’s a wooden ladder that leads up into the hay loft overhead. I grab the sides of it and start to climb, but the world spins again and I stumble sideways off of it into Daemon’s arms.
“Damn feet…”
“Tricky, tricky feet,” he murmurs in my ear.
“I’m very sleepy. I’m going to sleep here. It’s my favorite place.”
“I can see why,” he says, and this time he doesn’t sound like he’s teasing me.
I stagger forward into an alcove behind the ladder piled with extra bales of hay and flop down on the nearest one. “This is nice.”
Daemon follows me, taking off his cloak and spreading it on the adjacent bale. “This one is better, I think.”
I crawl over to that one and bury my face in the soft velvet of his cloak, breathing in his scent. “Mmm, yes.”
The last thing I see as I look up is Daemon sitting cross-legged next to me, his face illuminated in moonlight, his eyes the green of sea glass.
“Goodnight, little blacksmith.” His voice is deep and rumbles against me like thunder in the summer. And then sleep takes me.
Chapter Sixteen
Pain wakes me.And bright sunlight stabbing into my eyes.
My entire body hurts. The morning air is cold against my skin, which means the night before had been even colder. One day, if there comes a time when I am not hunted, I will find someplace where it never gets cold, because the cold always makes my muscles and joints hurt the worst. As if I am a hundred years old, and not twenty-two.
But it’s not just my usual aches. My head is pounding like there’s a raucous trio of musicians taking residence there. Why do I feel so awful? And how in the dark goddess did I end up down here in the barn?
I stiffen as flashes of the night before begin to surface in my consciousness.
The ball.
Fae wine.
Something about wings?
